


see you when i fall asleep

by etherealviscera



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Oneshot, Sleep Paralysis, real love, same dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 10:06:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19354804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etherealviscera/pseuds/etherealviscera
Summary: Aziraphale rationalized that this was some sort of fever dream, completely ignoring the fact that he had not had a fever in six thousand years.





	see you when i fall asleep

**Author's Note:**

> i keep seeing "sleep paralysis demon" memes and knew i had to do something with my fav demon (and his angel). enjoy and please let me know how I did!

“Angel, you awake?”

_That_ voice had come from beside him. Aziraphale opened his eyes slowly, then opened them wide.

Crowley was in _his_ bed, facing him as they both lay on their sides. His narrow shoulders were bare. Aziraphale felt his face burst into a quite embarrassing blush, earning a pointy-fanged smile from the demon. Crowley often let his more reptilian characteristics slip out in private, but seeing them in _this_ capacity was almost too much for Aziraphale to handle.

“How did you get here?” the angel tried to whisper. It seemed he could not speak. His whole body felt numb.

_How did you get here?_ he thought instead, trying to beam his words directly into Crowley’s brain.

“I was always here,” the demon replied gently, placing one hand on Aziraphale’s face. “I’m not leaving you.”

Aziraphale wanted nothing more than to pull Crowley close to him and kiss him, but his body wouldn’t cooperate.

_Darling, why can’t I move?_

Crowley moved closer, pressing his body against Aziraphale’s, wrapping a hand around his waist and moving the other into his hair. “I have no idea.”

_Is this really you then? What on earth is happening?_

“Yeah, I’m here,” Crowley sighed reverently. “To be honest, I really don’t know what’s going on either.”

Aziraphale rationalized that this was some sort of fever dream, completely ignoring the fact that he had not had a fever in six thousand years, and took a leap of faith. _Will you kiss me?_

Crowley suddenly looked as if he was going to cry. “Of course,” he said, giving those two words more romantic emphasis than the whole of _Pride and Prejudice_ , then his whole face changed expression again. “But not now. Wouldn’t be right if you can’t kiss me back.” He compromised by pressing his lips to the soft skin of Aziraphale’s jaw.

_I love him_ , Aziraphale thought with the force of six thousand suns, just before passing out.

 

* * *

 

 

“Angel, wake up.”

Aziraphale could not feel Crowley’s hand in his, but that was what his eyes told him upon waking up a second time. They were sitting together on some green hill somewhere, backs against the same tree. Their hill was the only one around for miles, and they sat in the midst of a carpet of wildflowers, purple heather and orange poppies and the little yellow ones. It reminded Aziraphale of the Beginning somehow.

“Sun’s going down,” said the demon, a rather obvious statement. The whole sky was painted in pinks and reds, the sun a perfect glowing half circle on the horizon. Aziraphale was speechless again.

_It’s beautiful._

“We can come here again tomorrow,” Crowley remarked, sliding over a little so that their shoulders brushed.

Aziraphale felt as if his heart would explode. _Yes. Yes. Yes._ Overwhelmed by contentment, he closed his eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

"Angel! Wake up!"

Aziraphale's eyes shot open. Goodness, he rarely dozed off like that (and _such_ strange dreams he’d had). He was safe in his bookshop, curled in his favorite armchair in the back. As the angel tried to unstick his cheek from its resting place atop his fist (how undignified), he noticed something strange. He couldn't move his hand.

"Crowley?" he tried to call. His lips would not move either.

At that moment, the door to the shop burst open with a comically loud noise, revealing two horrid-looking gentlemen carrying a chained-up Crowley, who was wiggling around maniacally and causing a great metal rattling.

"Hastur, Ligur, what the Hell is this about?" Crowley asked venomously. "I'm sure this isn't necessary-"

"Shut up." The sickly pale one backhanded Crowley across the face, knocking off his sunglasses.

Aziraphale's gasp wouldn't leave his mouth. He watched as Crowley's eyes cast wildly around the shop, searching for something. The second creature grasped Crowley's face to hold it still. His nails had a nasty yellowed appearance, as if he had just peeled an orange.

"It's over," he said, fishing around in his pants pocket to retrieve a plain, cheap-looking lighter. The left side of Crowley's jaw was blooming red. Aziraphale sat helpless, motionless, unable to do anything but watch the scene unfold before him. Crowley's eyes had fixed upon him, faraway beacons of light, confused.

_I can’t move I’m so sorry I can’t do anything I can’t help I love you_

The lighter blazed blue as Yellow Nails flicked it open under Crowley's nose. "Know what this is?" Sickly Pale jeered.

"Fire?" Crowley deadpanned.

Yellow Nails released Crowley's face with a grin and crossed the room to light up the nearest book – _The Picture of Dorian Gray._ Aziraphale felt sick to his stomach. Sickly Pale let out a little laugh and threw Crowley into a nearby chair, weaving the length of chain through the wooden slats in the back methodically. It was not amateur hour.

Both creatures gave a cackling hiss in unison: “Good riddance,” before leaving the shop in quite the hurry, slamming the door with far too much force entirely.

Blue fire licked through shelf after shelf of Aziraphale’s books. “Angel, what’s going on?” Crowley yelled, jerking around in the chair, trying to move closer, scales and skin rippling together as he tried and failed to transform. “I can’t – you have to leave! Are you okay?”

Aziraphale felt tears start to pool up in his eyes, blurring his vision. The fire had reached both of their chairs, and the angel could smell the fabric peeling up into ash. It was unbearably hot.

Crowley was unsuccessfully trying to blow out the fire on his pant leg. Usually fire didn’t really burn him, merely left his clothes a little singed. It was his element.

This was no ordinary fire.

Aziraphale could see again: twin tears had fallen, cold on his face. He could see blue climbing up his arm, smell the burning hair, but he still couldn’t feel a thing.

Crowley’s face visibly twisted. “Don’t cry. This is fine. It’s all my fault. It’s going to be just fine. We’ll get out of here,” he croaked, throat dry. A light fell from the roof, shattering directly in front of Crowley, who yelped and promptly tipped over in his chair. A shard bit deep into his shoulder and he cursed in response. Blue caught onto his face, his clothes, his hair, eating him alive. “Angel, GO!” He bit back a scream.

_Oh my God don’t let him die I don’t care what you have to do get him out now_

Luckily for Aziraphale, a beam then fell from the roof and he saw no more.

 

* * *

 

 

Across London, at precisely 7:03 AM, a certain Anthony J. Crowley awoke with tears in his eyes and his phone ringing madly.

“What?” he choked out angrily.

Aziraphale sounded equally out of sorts, with an oddly hoarse voice. “Crowley?? Thank heaven- where are you?”

“Jussss woke up.”

There was a pause. “Me too. Listen – can I come over?”

“Nah, I’m going to you.” The demon hung up quietly. He could get there faster.

The Bentley roared through the London streets at a calm 95 miles per hour. Nobody was out this early on a Saturday and it was awfully misty out. Crowley rarely drove in silence, but he didn’t want to take the risk of the car picking a song for him. His carefully constructed mood was too fragile, and at this speed it was a four-minute drive.

 Aziraphale gave a horrible start when Crowley flung open the shop’s door, dark glasses on even at this early hour. Crowley noted at least 6 marshmallows in the angel’s nearly-spilled cup of cocoa. “Bad night?”

Aziraphale pulled an odd face that conveyed both a yes and a no, standing from the fateful favorite armchair to set his cup down. “Yours?”

“Nothing that hasn’t played out before…” Crowley trailed off awkwardly, looking around the shop and fidgeting like a madman. “You know, you really ought to lock your door more.”

“I dreamed you died,” said Aziraphale abruptly. “Right here in this room. And- ” here a cold chill ran down his spine – “I couldn’t move. I just had to watch the whole thing burn down.” His voice broke a little.

Crowley plopped his body unceremoniously into the nearest chair with the sad slouch of a beanbag. “I dreamed you died,” he repeated, voice barely audible. “You were sitting right there.”

Aziraphale knelt by the side of Crowley’s chair “You mean- ”

“Yeah.”

“And before that?” Aziraphale asked tremulously, praying for the right answer.

Crowley’s face felt hotter than lava. “Yes, angel.”

Said angel’s face split into a grin brighter than the best stars Crowley had ever seen. The demon could practically see them in his eyes. “Oh, thank _fuck_.”

Crowley’s eyebrows shot above his glasses. It took a split second to reboot his brain before he realized he was being kissed, and another split second to melt against the feeling, pulling Aziraphale into his lap. He ripped off the offending glasses to finally ( _finally!)_ look at his angel.

Aziraphale had one hand on his demon’s jaw, the other wrapped around into his red hair, reminiscent of the past night in reverse. He stared into his favorite pair of yellow snake eyes in the whole world and tried to will himself to stop smiling so much.

 

* * *

 

 

“What I can’t understand is the whole not-moving thing,” Aziraphale murmured into Crowley’s neck. They lay in Aziraphale’s bed again, this time for real. Crowley was flat on his back with Aziraphale resting on his chest, posed like the cover of a terrible romance novel, one hand stroking slowly along the long plane of the demon’s body.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure that’s sleep paralysis. Our side invented it a while back. Usually it happens to humans, and we get a lesser demon, usually somebody new, to torment them or tempt them or something. I’m not too familiar with the specifics- ”

Aziraphale gasped. “You’re mine.”

“What?”

“My sleep paralysis demon.”

This revelation made both of them laugh, finally safe in the waking world. The streets below them were beginning to make their usual noise. Aziraphale flipped on top of Crowley to give him another kiss.


End file.
